


wanderlust

by startouched



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, Oops, by mostly i mean all, i can't promise how good or bad any of these might be, old drabbles might i mention, sonder's pretty good tho, sorry theyre mostly add ships these are from when add was mostly the fangirl favorite lmao, various drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startouched/pseuds/startouched
Summary: (n.) a strong desire to travel.a collection of various drabbles and whatnot i'd written between 2015 and 2017. a good handful of them were requests from the eltag. chapters are in chronological order of date written.
Relationships: Edward "Add" Grenore/Aisha Landar, Elesis/Edward "Add" Grenore, Eve/Edward "Add" Grenore
Kudos: 5





	1. diabolically magical

**Author's Note:**

> add (diabolical esper)/aisha (dimension witch), june 2015.  
> word count: 283

He admired her skill.

Regrettably, maybe, because as a scientist he often refused to acknowledge the existence of magic (it wasn't logical, where did magic even come from? How did it work? He could never wrap his head around it), but he admired her skill as a magician greatly. He found it useful, even, he thought maybe time and space magic was just what he was missing to successfully return to his past, in the correct timeline.

However, the Dimension Witch wasn't so quick to devolve her secrets of bending and manipulating time and space and reality itself – much to his dismay.

She would tease him about it, despite knowing how violent he would get (sometimes it resulted to her having to teleport herself back into their timeline, which sometimes didn't work out all too well), all because she enjoyed seeing the Diabolic Esper become flustered. Eventually, he would just pout and fold his arms, plopping down on the floor almost like a baby. She would laugh and plop down in his lap, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to his pouty lips.

Add put up with this, not just because he wanted to know the secrets behind her magical abilities, but because he really did love her, even if he stubbornly refused to admit to so. Something about Aisha's bright smile and teasing nature brightened his day – even if he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

So, day by day, he would continue to put up with her, and she would continue to tease him. All for the sake of discovering the secret to her power, right?

Or at least that's what he would tell himself.


	2. hiraeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> add (diabolical esper)/eve (code: battle seraph), june 2015.   
> word count: 351

She never quite understood the concept of "love."

Maybe it was because she rid herself of any "feeling" or "emotion" ages ago for the sake of power. Maybe it was because she never sought out to re-establish those "emotions" and "feelings," exactly. Maybe it was because it was coming from the man she'd expect it from the least. She wasn't sure, but she supposed that it was a comforting feeling, even if it was a bit . . . strange. To her, anyways.

Diabolic Esper was a curious fellow – some days, he would have all the innocence in the world – laying down on his back in the Battle Seraph's lap, smiling and wide-eyed, playing with her long, silvery hair. Other days, he would be yelling and shouting and screaming at the android – telling her that whatever they had wasn't real and never would be real, and it all was just a rouse to get her codes (although, he would often apologize after such outbursts, even if regrettably, usually because Chung and Ciel would refuse to leave him alone 'til he did.) Eve never seemed to react to the sudden fluctuations in his personality, she would run her scans on Add and account it to some sort of mental illness, something inflicted by his dark past – she would never understand him on an emotional level, he was a broken man with a broken mind, who felt far too much that even he could handle.

How could a robot that felt nothing understand a scientist that felt too much? She didn't know. No one else knew, either, the rest of the team questioned (and even disapproved of) their relationship.

Despite his ups and downs, Add truly loved his queen, even if he knew she could never love him back. He would drag her into bed at night (even though she never slept, androids didn't need to sleep) and cuddle with her, even if her skin was icy and metallic to the touch.

He found solace in her, he found his comfort, which was something he craved so desperately.


	3. curious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> add (lunatic psyker)/eve (code: nemesis), january 2016.  
> word count: 355

She found him fascinating.

But, of course, she was never going to admit that.

She would often peer out of her window at the earliest hours of the morning (she would be up anyways, robots didn't sleep) and watch the psyker go for his rounds down in the training grounds–punching away at wooden training monkeys until they nothing but splinters, firing pulse cannons at targets, and blasting quake busters at unsuspecting tree stumps (wait, could tree stumps suspect anything in the first place?)

The Queen of Destruction found the scientist's unbridled strength quite intriguing, oh yes. Now, if he weren't so obsessed with getting her codes, maybe …

"Eve." Add approached her one early morning, casually. He wore a black tank top and somewhat roughed up jeans, and had his wrists wrapped up in bandages. His dynamos hung idly at his sides.

"What do you want, Add?"

"Train with me."

"… train with you?"

"Yes," Add said, turning away and waving his hand dismissively. "Train with me. Before I change my mind, or something," he murmured, leaving the room.

Eve stared in his direction blankly.

She came to a dilemma–should she risk coming down with the training grounds with Add, knowing very well it could be a ploy to get her codes? Or, well, no, impossible, he could never get her codes. At least not without taking an assault spear up the ass, that's for sure.

She let out a soft sigh.

She tied her snowy locks up into a high ponytail as she floated out to the training grounds, spotting the Lunatic Psyker already punching away at some poor wooden training monkey. How does he not get splinters? She thought. Interesting.

"Well?" She heard him speak. He was still focused on whacking away at that training monkey.

"Well what?"

"It's a training ground. So."

She blinked. "Oh. Correct."

Eve turned away, summoning her atomic blaster and readying it.

They mostly ignored each other for the rest of the morning–but nonetheless, the little queen rather enjoyed Add's company, and the up close and personal look at his training routines.

Quite interesting, indeed.


	4. punny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> add (mastermind)/elesis (blazing heart), january 2016.  
> word count: 243

"You are so infuriating."

Add huffed, forming a small pout on his lips. He wasn't lying when he said the red-haired knight got on his nerves–because she did. With her bad puns and all-too-prideful attitude (an attitude that rivaled even his own), Elesis seriously ticked him off.

Yet he was still dating her. For whatever everloving fucking reason.

"Oh, come on, Add, don't be like that–" the Blazing Heart would hum, throwing her arms around the taller scientist's shoulders, "–you just need to cool down. You're getting a little too hot-headed. Heh."

"Oh my God."

"C'mon! You know it's funny!" She placed her hands on his pale cheeks–gripping at them and attempting to pull his lips up into a smile. "Lemme ignite a fire in your heart."

Add only stared at ger; his magenta eye twitching ever so slightly.

"Really … ? Ignite a 'fire' in my heart … ?"

"Was that one too cheesy? Aw." She pouted. "Don't get lunatic on me."

"Ugh." The psyker rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I've had enough puns for the day, Ele."

"But you can never have too many puns!" Grinning, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Add sighed, the smallest trace of a smile etching at his lips.

Her puns weren't that bad … Sometimes. He guessed.

But he also knew he'd just have to deal with it, much to his dismay.

So punny.


	5. sonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ain (apostasia) & ain (arme thaumaturgy), june 2017. 2nd person POV.  
> this specific piece was written for (and the 1st place winner of) the void elsword scribe contest that was held that month.  
> word count: 701

He was everything you could ever want to be.

Cold as ice, tough as stone. He never once cut himself short, never once doubted his faith. He did not waver, he did not stutter. He roamed the land on his own terms, mercilessly slaying those who dared to oppose him or his goddess, eternally devoted to his evangelical mission.

He was a walking powerhouse, and he knew it—it showed in the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he carried himself. He knew he was unstoppable, for he had Ishmael's blessing, in return for his undying loyalty.

Because of this, many would call the self-proclaimed Arme Thaumaturgy a god.

You, on the other hand, were as much of a legend as the Holy Emissary of the Goddess—yet, so immensely different. You were elusive, silent as a mouse. You were the legend parents would tell their young sons and daughters on Halloween, the scary story friends would share around a campfire, the monster under children's beds and in their closets.

You were Apostasia, the Ruler of the Abyss, a failed product of the goddess herself, an avid denier of her religion. Henir's corruption overtook your mind and body, crippling it to a chaotic shell of its former self. You ruled over the never-ending void of Henir in solitude, manipulating the unrelenting chaos surrounding you as you pleased.

You, the fallen angel, were everything Arme Thaumaturgy despised, and everything he would never be.

"How could you?" A voice spoke; hushed, yet entirely alert.

You looked over your shoulder, only to be greeted by hate-filled, icy blue eyes. You didn't cross paths with Arme Thaumaturgy often, but every time you did, the same question was posed: How could a creation of the Holy Ishmael herself fail so miserably?

How could he, the divine servant of the goddess . . . become you?

"Answer me." You could hear the anger in his voice rising, yet he remained so calm, so stern. You could hear him summon a weapon. One of his holy spears, presumably.

He was here to kill you, he always was. Ishmael couldn't possibly let a failed product of hers roam freely, she had to put you out of your misery. All for the sake of the El, so she would say. You could already feel the excruciating pain of the angel's spears piercing your tainted skin.

". . . she abandoned me first . . ." You whispered, staring down at the black, broken pendulum in your palms. ". . . the mission is for those who will eventually disappear, and I, who was created for nothing more than that mission, mean nothing."

"How dare you speak of our— _my_ God-given mission in such a manner?" The priest hissed. You knew he wasn't pleased with your answer. He never was, and never would be.

"The goddess has let you go free for far too long. You're nothing more than a threat to the mission . . . and now, I will end your worthless existence."

_Worthless._ He spat the word out with poison, every syllable stinging and echoing in your mind like a sour memory. You knew it was true, you always have. What worth was there in a denier of the goddess? One who abandoned her religion because he was too weak to go on? Ever since you were a Wanderer, you were never up to par with the goddess's expectations—you were lucky if she even bothered to give you the time of day. You truly were . . . worthless.

You let out a solemn sigh as you crushed your pendulum in your hands, your scythe beginning to materialize. You still didn't dare turn to face the Goddess's Emissary, you fully believed he could destroy you with his eyes alone.

You could hear the angel scoff, the fact you even dared fight back amused him. When one who has nothing to live for clashes with one who has everything to live for, they must either be brave, or stupid. You were sure he believed you were the latter. Why else would you challenge him in such a way?

"So be it . . . Apostasia."


End file.
